


so come home, honey

by gayprophets



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Set between 154 and 155, a bunch of quiet kind words shared between people learning to be kind, brief bit of eye trauma/gore, gentle bullying of the admiral. hes a stinky boy., god i love writing people with braincells, going blind aint a curse yall, kind of, mentions of eye trauma, thank you georgie for my life, this is tma you know what youre getting into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayprophets/pseuds/gayprophets
Summary: Melanie’s face crumples a bit, which she does her best to quickly smooth away, not quite succeeding. Georgie’s hands burn with the need to touch her, pull her close and hold her, her chest aching with the desire to try and make all this just go away, make it less complicated, make it easy and simple for her, muscle the world into something soft and yielding, something kind. She’s had to fight and claw for so terribly long. Melanie deserves gentle.“Okay,” Melanie says, then takes a deep breath through her nose, holds, out through her mouth, something that Georgie finds herself unconsciously matching, since they’ve practiced together so often now. “Okay.” It feels so natural when she follows it up with a soft, “Georgie, can I kiss you?”-georgie and melanie prepare for melanie to quit the institute.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King
Comments: 31
Kudos: 221





	so come home, honey

**Author's Note:**

> title from blue eyes dancing by matt heckler

Georgie’s editing the newest episode of  _ What the Ghost _ when her phone dings, rattling against the desk and startling her. She has sound notifications on for very few people: she’ll look at her phone when she feels like it and get back when she can. One of these people is Melanie - and sure enough, when she flips the screen over, it’s her. 

_ Are you home? _ it reads.

_ yes, _ Georgie types, a spark of worry catching cold in her throat.  _ you okay? do i need to call you? _

_ No, _ comes the immediate reply, no context as to which question she’s answering. Then;  _ Buzz me in? _

And, well. Georgie doesn’t deny Melanie much of anything these days. 

Melanie is windswept when Georgie opens the door to her knock, blotchy color on her cheeks like she’s been running, eyes wide, near manic. “Hi,” she says immediately, her birdlike hands fluttering like she doesn’t quite know what to do with them, grabbing and twisting at nothing. Georgie pulls her into a hug, carefully telegraphing the move - Melanie doesn’t always like being touched, so she always gives her plenty of time to pull away or shake her head - and Melanie melts against her, air gusting from her mouth in a heavy sigh. 

“Hi yourself,” Georgie says into her ear. Melanie turns her cold nose into Georgie’s neck, her fingertips tapping next to Georgie’s spine. “Are you okay?” she asks. “What happened?”

“I’m…” Melanie says, then pulls back to swipe a palm down her face. “Ugh,” she says. “Just… It’s been a  _ day.” _ She laughs then, harsh. “God, Georgie, it’s been a  _ life.” _

“Sure sounds it,” Georgie tells her, “You’re living it though, and that’s what matters.”

“That’s what matters,” Melanie repeats quietly, rubbing her fingertips across her eyelids, right, then left. Georgie scans her face, but there’s no sign she’s been crying. She’s suddenly hyperaware of where their bodies touch - her hands on Melanie’s soft waist, their stomachs brushing, Melanie’s bent one of her knees to get the weight off that leg, and her kneecap is touching Georgie’s. She favors the leg that had the bullet in it when the weather changes, so it’s probably going to rain tomorrow - Georgie should check and see if she’s out of Advil, just in case Melanie stays the night.

“Tea?” Georgie asks, and Melanie nods, so she pulls away. She tries to ignore the way her skin prickles at her absence.

_ The problem, _ Georgie thinks as she puts the kettle on, rummaging in her cabinets for Melanie’s favorite tea (some strong raspberry concoction that she personally can’t stand) is that she keeps  _ noticing _ Melanie. Noticing the dry skin on her hands and thinking about the lotions she might like, noticing how she curls her upper lip at things she doesn’t like, notices her wrists, the angles of her nose, the dips of her violin hips, the curve of her spine as she stretches, her laugh, a rare but  _ sparkling _ thing. She notices the way her hair falls into her face; Georgie always tucks it back behind her ear, and then she  _ notices _ how Melanie’s lips twitch upwards for a half second, her face flushing. Melanie is one of the most beautiful people Georgie has ever seen, which is something that she had  _ noticed _ when they first met, and has recently started hitting her again, and again, and again, with every brush of their hands and with every angular grin that breaks across Melanie’s face.

What’s making it  _ complicated _ is that she’s pretty sure Melanie’s been  _ noticing _ her right back. She pours the water into the mugs, one shaped like a raccoon for Melanie, and a bright yellow one for herself, and feels the weight of Melanie’s gaze pressing comfortably into her shoulder blades. Melanie takes her hand when they walk together now, rather than linking elbows, leans into her side as they watch TV on the rare occasions that Melanie felt comfortable enough to spend the night outside the Institute, makes an extra effort to tell Georgie that she looks  _ nice, _ that she’s  _ pretty, _ that she likes what she did with her hair or the color of the wig she has on. Melanie isn’t a  _ touchy _ person, nor a particularly vocal one, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out, not when they’ve known each other for this long.

The thing is: she knows getting into a relationship during a rocky time isn’t a good idea, and Melanie’s life is rockier than most, through no fault of her own - bad luck and coincidence and  _ fear gods. _ Georgie can’t bring herself to make a move - she doesn’t want to be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

She plops in the tea bags and walks back over to Melanie, who’s perched on one of the stools behind the peninsula, looking more uncomfortable than Georgie’s ever seen her here. Georgie frowns and presses the mug into her hands. “C’mon, up you get,” she says, and Melanie gives her a soft look, curling her hands around Georgie’s to take the mug. “Couch, lets go.”

Melanie graciously allows herself to be harried over, though she sits stiff as a board, both feet planted on the ground and staring blankly into the mug, the water slowly blooming a deep rose. Her socks are grey and pink, patterned with little turnips and radishes. Georgie tucks her feet up under herself - her flat gets chilly and her circulation is shite - and leans her back against the arm of the couch. Her knees touch Melanie’s thigh, and she prods her, just a bit. 

“I can’t make you talk,” Georgie tells her, because sometimes Melanie appreciates that little reminder. “But I’m here to listen if you want to.”

Melanie exhales, a slow, shuddering thing, and rests one hand on Georgie’s thigh, next just above her knee, her skin hot from the mug. Georgie puts her own atop Melanie’s, squeezes it gently.

“I can’t take it from you,” she says, “But I’m happy to help carry it.”

_ “If I want to quit the Institute all I have to do is gouge my eyes out,” _ Melanie blurts, all in one breath, still staring down at her tea. 

Georgie’s stomach, which took a  _ bit _ of a rollercoaster ride curing that sentence, settles with a weight like she’s swallowed a stone. She sets her mug down on the floor, slowly, not letting go of Melanie’s hand.

_ “He _ told me,” she says, mouth twisting wryly. “Looked like it  _ hurt _ him to say.” She takes a sip of her tea - which must still be far too hot, and is definitely not steeped enough - then sets it down as well, tracing her fingertips over the bruisey bags under her eyes. 

“Okay,” Georgie says, taking a deep breath. She tries to come up with something rational to say, but what flies out of her mouth is a slightly hysterical  _ “Jesus.” _

Melanie laughs, also hysterical, and looks over at Georgie. Her eyes are huge, her upper lip curling, revealing her crooked bottom row of teeth, the slight jut to her canines, and her face is _ashen._ _“Jesus,”_ she parrots, and then they both break into hysterical laughter, Melanie pulling her hand from under Georgie to shake both of them out, the motion like a hummingbird. It peters out with their laughter, into the same grabbing at nothing, tendons flexing as she balls her fists and then stretches her fingers out again.

“Are you going to do it?” Georgie asks, breathless.

“Yes,” Melanie says, immediately, strong and sure, then: “I don’t  _ know. Fuck.” _

“You don’t have to,” Georgie says. “But I… I don’t think - it’s not a  _ curse, _ really.” Melanie raises an eyebrow, and Georgie shrugs. “It’s a different life, yeah, but it’s still a  _ life. _ Not like everything is  _ over, _ things will just… Change.”

“I…” Melanie starts, then pauses, shaking her head. “There’s just so  _ much,” _ she says, “I don’t know where to start with it, I have to find - I don’t even have a  _ flat, _ Georgie, and -,”

“Uh, hello?” Georgie asks, gesturing wildly at their surroundings. “Yes you do?”

Melanie’s mouth twists again. “I couldn’t burden you with all this -,”

“You’re not a burden,” Georgie interrupts. “I think I proved myself quite capable of cutting out people who cause me hardship, yeah? You’re not one of them. And besides, do you  _ really _ think that just because the circumstances are changing means my offer is too?” Georgie asks. “Because it’s not, don’t be dumb, Melanie. I told you, you’re  _ always _ welcome here.”

Melanie’s face crumples a bit, which she does her best to quickly smooth away, not quite succeeding. Georgie’s hands  _ burn _ with the need to touch her, pull her close and hold her, her chest  _ aching _ with the desire to try and make all this just go away, make it less  _ complicated, _ make it easy and simple for her, muscle the world into something soft and yielding, something kind. She’s had to  _ fight _ and  _ claw _ for so terribly long. Melanie deserves  _ gentle. _

“Okay,” Melanie says, then takes a deep breath through her nose,  _ holds, _ out through her mouth, something that Georgie finds herself unconsciously matching, since they’ve practiced together so often now. “Okay.” It feels so natural when she follows it up with a soft, “Georgie, can I kiss you?” 

_ “Yes,” _ Georgie replies. Melanie’s lips are a little chapped, the skin on her cheeks is textured with little bumps of stress acne beneath Georgie’s fingertips, and their noses bump when they both lean in. It’s the most perfect thing in the world. Melanie’s fingers grab onto the back of her sweatshirt, holding tight as she more or less crawls into Georgie’s lap.

The Admiral, of course, takes that as his cue to leap up onto Georgie’s lap as well with a curious  _ mrrp? _

Georgie and Melanie both pull back at the same time, a laugh bubbling out of Georgie’s mouth, Melanie swiping at the tears on her cheeks.  _ “There’s _ the stinkmonster,” she says wetly, shuffling back off of Georgie and scooping him up. “Did someone just notice I was here?”

“Lazy bastard was probably napping,” Georgie says, scratching him under the chin as Melanie tucks her face into his fur.  _ “He’ll _ definitely be happy to have you ‘round all the time, at least.”

“Oh, only him?” Melanie asks, pulling away from him just enough to crack one watery eye open and raise an eyebrow at Georgie, who laughs.

“I could be convinced,” she allows, stroking a hand down Melanie’s spine. She shudders, pressing back into the touch, so Georgie slings a leg behind her and pulls her in, back to front, tucking her chin over Melanie’s shoulder. 

“Melanie,” she says, because she has to. The Admiral purrs like a motorcycle as Georgie wraps her arms around Melanie’s waist, sliding her hands over Melanie’s, into his fur. “I just… Promise me I’m not something you’re going to hurt yourself with. This isn’t something you think you owe me.”

“Never,” Melanie says, vehement. “You’re not… I’ve been - I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she decides on. Her voice cracks a bit as she talks. “It - it would have been  _ fine, _ if you said no, right? I just…” she sighs, tilts her head so that their cheeks are pressed together, her skin is flushed and hot against Georgie’s, damp with tears. Georgie clicks her tongue sympathetically, holds her a little tighter. “I don’t want to do this without you, in whatever -  _ capacity _ you want to do it. In whatever way you want me.”

“I don’t think there’s a way I  _ don’t _ want you,” Georgie replies, eyes closed, and she feels Melanie’s face fold again. They spend a few quiet minutes wrapped around each other, the crook of Melanie’s elbow over her eyes as she cries, Georgie murmuring small things like  _ it’s okay _ and  _ I’ve got you _ and  _ let it out _ as her heart twists and clenches in her chest, wishing desperately that she could just…  _ take _ this. Stuff it all in her pockets and under her bed for a while, while Melanie gets her feet back under her. She wants to put a shoulder under this weight and help shift it. 

It’s too much to bear alone, and Melanie’s been carrying on for so long, and she’s trying so  _ hard, _ and this whole thing just  _ sucks, _ and it’s not  _ fair. _ Georgie wants to take all the hurt and pain and  _ hold _ it.

Just holding  _ her _ will have to be enough.

“This  _ sucks,” _ Georgie says, blunt, and Melanie’s sob hiccups into a laugh. 

“You think?” she replies, then: “I’m gonna do it. I have to do it.”

“Do you… want me to be there?” Georgie asks.

It’s quiet for a moment, and Melanie’s hands go still over the Admiral’s fur, making him chirp with annoyance. 

“No,” she says finally. “I think it’s something I need to do by myself.”

“Okay,” Georgie says, and she’s kind of relieved - she doesn’t think she could actually stomach watching it happen. Her brain helpfully provides an image - Melanie’s long, slender fingers clenching tight around her own, the knuckles white and  _ stark _ against Georgies dark skin, her face a wash of  _ red _ and  _ agony _ as she levels something sharp at her other eye, peeled back wide - and she pushes it away quickly, suppressing a shudder. “Guess we have some  _ research _ to do then, ay?”

“Looks like,” Melanie says, and the Admiral stands up and puts both paws on her sternum, leaning down until he’s almost nose to nose. “Your breath stinks, little man,” she says, then splutters and pushes him gently away as he licks her nose. “Okay, gross! That was  _ in _ my nostril!”

Georgie cackles, releasing her grip on Melanie’s waist to let her sit back up. Melanie puts the Admiral down on the floor, where he immediately begins to brush against her legs and purr again. 

“Want to spend the night?” Georgie asks. “Couch is free, of course, but there’s the bed too.” She reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, lets her fingertips linger, trail around the shell of it, ghost over one end of her industrial. “If you want it.”

Melanie glances out at what passes for Georgie’s balcony - a 5 inch strip of space with a wrought iron railing, draped with some plants that Georgie’s struggling to keep alive. It’s getting dark outside, the lighting grey from cloud cover, dim. As Georgie watches, the first spatter of rain begins to tap against the leaves. It looks cold.

“Yeah,” Melanie says, bringing a hand up to grab Georgie’s. “I’d like that.”

They don’t do much research that night, but they have time. 

Georgie rearranges her flat - the couch gets moved to be a line leading to the kitchen, she hands her sharp-edged coffee table off to her neighbors, puts tactile tape on the two stairs that lead up into the hallway that goes to the bedrooms and the bathroom, sticks a fluffy rug at the bottom to mark them and adheres it to the floor. She thinks she might move - find a place without any falling hazards, one that isn’t two floors up, but her lease isn’t up for another six months, and who knows what they’ll be up to by then. It’s for the future.

Melanie paces the apartment blindfolded as Georgie reorganizes the kitchen to be more friendly, mumbling as she counts the steps from the couch to the kitchen, from the bed to the stairs, from the front door to the bathroom, and so on. It works - her walking becomes smoother, more confident and sure of herself, one hand sliding along the back of the sofa and the other at her side, rather than reaching out to feel for an unknown obstacle. For her part, Georgie gets better at verbalizing her actions, rather than telegraphing her movements like she did before -  _ can I touch your shoulder? Would a hug be too much right now? I’m to your right, at about 2 o’clock, take two more steps. Is it okay if I kiss you? _

They’re about as prepared as they can be, really.

Georgie’s phone vibrates against the counter kitchen counter as she stirs their dinner for tonight; soup, Melanie’s last meal before… Tomorrow. Melanie’s last day at the Institute. Melanie folds clothes on the couch, tapping her foot along to the music drifting from the speaker on the counter.

She opens the text - from her friend, asking if they’re still on for dinner at hers tomorrow. Georgie bits back a curse - she’d forgotten completely.

_ sorry, _ she texts back.  _ gonna have to cancel! my friend _ \- this, she hems and haws over for a second before leaving it as such, at least until she talks to Melanie about it -  _ had a bad accident at work & went blind, so i’ve been rearranging my flat so she can move in with me, completely spaced it. idk when i’ll be up for it next but i’ll let you know when we can reschedule! sorry again! _

She’s barely put her phone back down when she gets the reply.  _ Oh god!! It’s totally fine b! Is she gonna be alright? _

“D’ya think I could get away with my resignation letter just being ‘suck my ass’ on a post-it, or will that not count?” Melanie asks, sounding pensive, and Georgie laughs so hard she almost drops her phone. Melanie smiles at her, bright - something she’s been doing more and more - Georgie’s favorite scarf (a black, satin thing, patterned with emerald green ferns) tied around her eyes, bunching her hair up at the back of her head. She looks so much  _ lighter. _

“I love you,” Georgie tells her, and that feels so natural too. Melanie’s smile gets wider. 

“I love you too,” she says. “Come kiss me.”

Georgie texts her friend back on the way to the couch, giggling.

_ i think she’s gonna be fine. Thank you. <3 _

**Author's Note:**

> I'm legally blind in one eye, but it doesn't really effect me in any real material way, so do tell me if i fucked up on any of this. I did do research, but I know it's not always enough.
> 
> love is real and it made writing this feel like a horse was kicking me in the chest. god theyre so in love. I didn't deeply describe my visual hcs for them which is a first for me, and feels weird. hopefully it didn't read too weird. this is also my first time writing georgies pov or the two of them together so hopefully that ALSO doesn't read too weird! sorry if my characterization is wack jkdhfjhsd.
> 
> only loosely edited cos im tired, tell me if anything is fucked
> 
> thank you for reading. comments and kudos are, as always appreciated. ilu <3  
> ([tumblr](https://themlet.tumblr.com))


End file.
